ts had been dwelling restfully on Ovid. In
another day she might be on her way to him. When would Teresa come?

Benjulia was too preoccupied to notice her. The weak doubt that had got
the better of his strong reason, still held him in thrall. "Love!"
he broke out, in the bitterness of his heart. "It isn't a question of
sentiment: it's a question of use. Who is the better for love?"

She heard the last words, and answered him. "Everybody is the better
for it." She looked at him with sorrowful eyes, and laid her hand on his
arm. "Everybody," she added, "but you."

He smiled scornfully. "Everybody is the better for it," he repeated.
"And who knows what it is?"

She drew away her hand, and looked towards the heavenly tranquillity of
the evening sky.

"Who knows what it is?" he reiterated.

"God," she said.

Benjulia was silent.

CHAPTER XLV.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck six. Zo, turning suddenly from the
window, ran to the sofa. "Here's the carriage!" she cried.

"Teresa!" Carmina exclaimed.

Zo crossed the room, on tiptoe, to the door of the bed-chamber. "It's
mamma," she said. "Don't tell! I'm going to hide."

"Why, dear?"

The answer to this was given mysteriously in a whisper. "She said I
wasn't to come to you. She's a quick one on her legs--she might catch me
on the stairs." With that explanation, Zo slipped into the bedroom, and
held the door ajar.

The minutes passed--and Mrs. Gallilee failed to justify the opinion
expressed by her daughter. Not a sound was audible on the stairs. Not a
word more was uttered in the room. Benjulia had taken the child's place
at the window. He sat there thinking. Carmina had suggested to him some
new ideas, relating to the intricate connection between human faith
and human happiness. Slowly, slowly, the clock recorded the lapse of
minutes. Carmina's nervous anxiety began to forecast disaster to the
absent nurse. She took Teresa's telegram from her pocket, and consulted
it again. There was no mistake; six o'clock was the time named for the
traveller's arrival--and it was close on ten minutes past the hour.
In her ignorance of railway arrangements, she took it for granted that
trains were punctual. But her reading had told her that trains were
subject to accident. "I suppose delays occur," she said to Benjulia,
"without danger to the passengers?"

Before he could answer--Mrs. Gallilee suddenly entered the room.

She had opened the door so softly, that sh